


Cute Jeep Guy

by dansunedisco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Human, Embarrassed Derek, Embarrassment, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Stiles, Shameless Stiles, Stilinski Family Feels, Talia Is the Mayor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Um,” Stiles said, ever intelligently, because was he getting carjacked? Was this a thing that happened now?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The guy whipped around, eyes comically wide. “What--?” he asked, then glanced around the jeep’s cabin like he couldn’t quite believe he was there, too.</i>
</p><p>Derek gets in the wrong car at the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cute Jeep Guy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally slapped up on [my tumblr](http://dansunedisco.tumblr.com/post/105229501238/hi-funny-but-useless-fact-of-the-day-my-best).
> 
> FYI, Derek's characterization is more in line with canon teen!Derek.

Stiles was buzzing with excitement. Okay, _excitement_ might’ve been a little too strong a word for his feels, but--seriously, he was stoked. Super stoked.

His dad had been out of town for the past week at some conference in Anaheim and Stiles plus freedom had been glorious. Glorious with a capital G. For the first two days, that was. Two wonderful days where he didn’t have his dad nagging him to clean up, wake up, _move your ass or you’ll be late to school_ , and _I don’t need to arrest my truant son, do I?_ Stiles had walked around the house in his undies (until he’d accidentally spilled piping hot chicken noodle soup all over his chest when he’d stupidly plopped down on the couch), didn’t bother to pick his clothes up off the bathroom floor after he’d showered, ordered an “all the meat” pizza with the money his dad had left him, and stayed up _way,_ way too late for a school night.

Yeah, it had been great alright. Until he’d woken up on the third day to silence, the cruiser still parked in the driveway, his dad’s olive green jacket hanging on the coatrack, and the house in a filthy state of disarray it hadn’t seen the likes of since the Sheriff had become a widow. It didn’t seem like a real thing, to actually _miss_ parental nagging, but Stiles was pretty well acquainted with missing a certain someone’s voice, so--yeah. It had been a downer, and a major blow to Stiles’ freedom boner. It had, quite frankly, sucked the fun out of the remainder of the week.

So, here he was, at the train station waiting for the one and the only Sheriff of Beacon Hills to arrive, practically bouncing in his seat, when the door to his jeep was yanked open and a dude who was _definitely_ not his father hopped right in.

“Um,” Stiles said, ever intelligently, because was he getting carjacked? Was this a thing that happened now?

The guy whipped around, eyes comically wide. “What--?” he asked, then glanced around the jeep’s cabin like he couldn’t quite believe he was there, too.

 _Not a carjacking then_ , Stiles thought, _thank god_. With his panic sufficiently deflated, his innate curiosity took over, just in time for his eyes and brain to realize that the dude who’d crawled into his jeep was hot like burning. He barely managed to rein in the urge to fist pump. Just barely. “Can I help you, bro?” he asked.

The guy flushed. Seriously, the tips of his ears turned pink. Then he seemingly realized he was in a stranger’s vehicle and probably should show himself out. “God, oh god, I am _so sorry_ ,” he said, then proceeded to scramble out of the cabin. He was wearing basketball shorts and a UCLA hoodie, and dragged his duffel bag out with him.

 _Don’t go_ , Stiles’s heart cried weakly.

“Your jeep is exactly like my brother’s. He was supposed to pick me up. Sorry,” the guy said, eyes averted like he was tragically embarrassed by his faux pas.

“It’s fine,” Stiles said. He was starting to feel a little bad for the guy. Stiles had the ability to feel embarrassment, sure, but tended to go about his life like _embarrassment_ was just another word in the dictionary. “Trust me, if I had a dollar for every weird and socially awkward thing I did, I’d have, like, at least a few hundred bucks.” 

The guy laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, well, thanks,” he said, and shut the jeep door. “I’ll--just go now. Bye.”

“Bye!” Stiles waved cheerfully, watching sadly as the guy disappeared into the crowd. Now that he thought about it, the guy looked _really_ familiar. Hmm.

Before he could really think about where he’d seen the guy before, his dad stepped out onto the platform. Stiles jumped out of the jeep to meet him at the curb to help (or hinder, depending on who you asked) him with his luggage, weird encounter with hot dudes taking the back seat to having his dad back.

“Nice to see you, too, Stiles,” his dad said, laughing, when Stiles gave him a vigorous side-hug. He looked a little confused by the attention, but let it happen anyway.

\--

Stiles was in the grocery store, a week later, when he saw Hot Dude again. He had two boxes of cereal in his hands like he was debating which one he wanted to take home. Stiles’s mouth went dry.

Hot Dude was even hotter this time around, which Stiles was sure wasn’t fair, because… c’mon. No one needed to set the bar for gorgeousness in fantasies and then blow them out of the water in reality. He debated, for a moment, on whether or not he should engage, but quickly thought better of it. One awkward moment didn’t a friendship make. 

Stiles skittered backwards down the aisle, preparing to make a daring escape, when he backed right into a candy bar display he’d forgotten was even there. The whole thing tumbled down around his feet and Hot Dude turned in his direction, eyebrows raised.

Stiles screamed internally, patiently waiting until all the candy bars were down before he moved. He cleared his throat and gestured like Vanna White in the vicinity of his chest. “I believe this is another dollar for my awkward jar,” he said, pitching his voice like a gameshow host, praying Hot Dude remembered him and his lame joke.

Against all odds, Hot Dude laughed. “Jeep guy,” he said, choosing the Count Chocula, then he actually came forward to help pick up the bars at Stiles’s feet. Stiles bent down, too, stomach warm because _Hot Dude had a nickname for him_. 

“You remember me?” Stiles asked, though the answer was stupidly obvious.

Hot Dude nodded. The pink ears were back. So cute. “Getting into your car was probably a top five emotionally scarring moment for me,” he admitted. “I’m Derek, by the way.”

Stiles gaped, suddenly remembering where he’d seen Hot Dude before. “Derek Hale,” he blurted out. Derek Hale: hometown hottie (er, hero), infielder for UCLA’s baseball team, the son of Beacon Hills’ _mayor_. He practically had an entire wing dedicated to him in Beacon Hills High. Finstock sang odes to his prowess on the weekly. “Holy fu--fudge.”

Derek sighed, like this was a reaction he suffered through way too frequently. “That’s me.” 

Stiles’s heart squeezed. Though it wasn’t the same, not even remotely, he was equally known around Beacon Hills for being the Sheriff’s one and only son. It had made making friends difficult in high school, when everyone but Scott thought he was a narc who was two seconds away from running home to daddy to snitch on every single person who dabbled in recreational drugs and underage drinking. It had sucked, and had taken a long time to dirty up his rep enough to be invited to the _good_ parties.

“I’m Stiles. Stiles _Stilinksi,_ ” he said, wanting desperately to save the moment. “You might’ve heard of me, too. I’m pretty notorious around ol’ Beacon Hills.”

Derek stared at him for a beat, then broke into a sheepish grin, like he finally realized what Stiles was playing at. “The Sheriff’s kid, yeah,” he said.

“Yup, that’s me,” Stiles parroted.

They both stood up. 

“So…” Derek trailed off.

“Do you...” Stiles waggled his fingers. “Do you maybe want to hang out? Sometime? Like Beacon Hills Most Wanted or whatever.” 

Derek seemed surprised. “Yeah?”

Stiles shrugged, smiling a little. “You’ve already hopped into my car once, so--why not?”

Derek groaned, like being reminded of that moment was physically painful.

It sounded like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

\-- 

And it was.

Because a few weeks later, after plenty of outings that could have been construed as platonic but Stiles really hoped were legit dates--Derek asked if Stiles had had a nickname for him, before they were formally introduced.

It took a little needling, but Stiles finally caved and admitted to referring to Derek as Hot Dude.

The kiss(es) that followed were awesome, but barely held an awesome candle to Derek’s confession that Stiles’s full nickname was, in fact, Cute Jeep Guy.


End file.
